This is a joint venture of Kaana Moonshadow and myself. We had lots of fun writing it and hope you have as much fun reading.

We don't own Bishop, but we sure as hell wish we did.


Bishop sat, staring into the fire while his mind turned over the events of the evening again and again.

He had to face it. The little trollop was getting to him.

He let her get to him.

That moment, when she had turned and laughed, her eyes sparkling with true merriment, her hair grazing his face when she turned her head, making her scent rise even more prominently into his nose, her lips so tantalisingly near...

It had been close. Really close. He had been seconds away from forgetting himself...

He took another swig out of the bottle, feeling the liquid burn as it ran down his throat.

What was he to do? He had to wait at least one or two days more before he could kill her. How ever was he going to get through those days without committing some seriously addlebrained act?

And why not, a sweet, seductive voice whispered in the back of his brain. No one would know... no one would notice when they fished her body out of the water. So what if he stilled that need that burned in him, stronger than the liquor burned in his stomach? So what if he used her to dampen the pain the sight of her brought, to slake the yearning in his heart – and other parts of his body? Even if she was only a replacement... she still looked the part...

No! No, no, no. Bad idea. Very, very bad idea. She would only crawl under his skin even more than she had done so anyway. Could not let her see, could not let her know how much she affected him. Had to keep away.

He would just sit here and get roaring drunk instead.

Right.

His thoughts were interrupted when a loud, scraping noise set his teeth on edge. He looked up to see the girl dragging the tub over the floor.

He growled and went to his feet, realising the ground felt slightly wobbly. He must have proceeded further towards his goal of getting drunk than he had thought... That the girl looked somewhat blurred only confirmed that thought.

"What the hells do you think you're doing?", he asked angrily and walked up to her –carefully, because the ground indeed felt unsteady.

She yammered something about earning her food. Stupid bint.

"Did you really think that cleaning the dishes and making my ears bleed from that screeching noise would earn you some food?"

He stepped even closer, but she did not retreat. Instead she held his gaze somewhat defiantly.

"No,", she said. "But..."

He did not listen to what she said. Her scent was in his nostrils again, and her soft, rosy lips beckoned.

Slowly, purposefully, he walked forward, his eyes trained on her mouth. She stopped talking. He could see her throat move as she swallowed nervously – but she did not move backwards.

He took a last step forward, until his body touched hers, and that dull burning in him roared to life, turning into a hot, searing flame.

Somewhere in his brain his common sense was screaming at him that this was a mistake, a bloody big mistake, that he would regret it later... but his mind was just fuzzy enough not to care anymore.

He leaned forward, closed his eyes and whispered into her ear: "I have an idea how you could earn your food, princess."

His heart racing a mile a minute, he let his mouth wander down the column of her throat, her skin so soft, so fragrant under his lips.

Gods, he wanted her.

He kissed his way along her neck, sucking softly, just savouring the feel, the taste of her.

He'd make her want him, too. Make her forget that wimp she was betrothed to...

With a small moan, he returned his attention to her ear, nibbling gently at her lobe, feeling her shiver against him, her hands clutching at his shoulders, holding on to him.

Oh, gods.

To hell with the consequences.

Another moan escaping his throat, he grabbed her waist, pulling her harder against him. He kissed his way along her jaw, slowly, oh so slowly, feathery touches, cautiously stalking his prey, taking painstaking care not to scare her off. He could hear her breath, short and fast. Was she frightened? Was she excited? Did it matter?

His lips touched the corner of her mouth, and he felt his heartbeat spike as a hot wave seemed to crash over him.

He had to feel her, her mouth under his...

She squeaked and shoved at his chest with unexpected strength, catching him by surprise and sending him stumbling some steps back before he could catch himself. That his knees still seemed made of rubber did not help.

"Please,", she stammered, her voice high-pitched and full of panic. "I… I can stitch. Fetch your clothes. Cross-stich, the Tailor's stich… whatever you like! All you have to do is lend me needle and thread, and I… I can repair your clothes nicely for you, to earn my food. You'll see!"

She was babbling. Frightened, it was. Well, of course. Why would she be excited? She did not want him, just as the original had not wanted him.

Damn, it hurt. Should not hurt so much. She was stirring it all up again.

Hurt so much he could not even get angry anymore. Just felt so tired of it.

But the distance helped to clear his mind a bit.

Again. He had let it happen again. Blasted booze. Note to self: Do not get drunk in company of girl. Stupid thing to do. Should have known better.

Now, he had to try and cut his losses as good as possible. Could not let her see what she did to him.

He put his best sneer on his face. "Fine. Certainly worth more than a moment of cheap gratification. And my cloak needs some fixing. But mess it up, little mouse, and I can promise you will go hungry for the rest of your life."

There. That should have done it. Would not do for her to get some ideas in her head, wouldn't it? For her to think that what he had just done meant something to him.

Which it did not.

So that was settled then.

"I will… I will see to it first thing in the morning.", the girl answered, sounding relieved.

He pulled the chain with Riana's locket and the key out from under his shirt.

"Sit down and put out your foot", he commanded.

She obeyed, the expression on her face still reminding him of a frightened filly. He walked up to her, a bit more steady than before as the effect of the alcohol started to wear off somewhat.

Taking care not to touch her skin, he fastened the ring around her ankle again and then got up and back to the other end of the hut as quickly as possible without making it look like a flight.

He put the cork back into the bottle and stowed it away. Dangerous stuff. Better to keep away from it.

He lay down on his bedroll, forcing his mind away from thinking of the way she had felt against his body, the way her skin was like silk under his lips.

Bad train of thought.

Instead, he concentrated on something else. Karnwyr! Yes, that was something to think about.

He had not seen his companion for days now. Not that that was unheard of. The wolf sometimes left him for some time, to do whatever wolves did alone. Wolfy things. Probably involving female wolves. It was that time of the year.

At least one of them was getting some.

He repressed a groan when he realised his thoughts had taken him full circle. As soon as he had received the second half of his money, he would visit the next brothel and stay a week. Obviously he had let a lot of pressure build up.

Resolutely, he closed his eyes firmly and tried to find some sleep.

xxx

He woke some time later, could not tell how long, from the noise. Instantly alert, he tensed, trying to figure out what it was he heard.

A clacking kind of noise.

Like teeth chattering.

The girl.

He groaned and tried to ignore it, to get back to sleep, but now that it had woken him, he could not brush it off. He just had to concentrate on it. It drove him nuts.

"Stop that noise!" he gritted out.

Silence. And then another chatter.

"Stop. It.", he said, low and threatening.

"I... I tried", she said, a hint of panic in her voice. "I can't!"

"Then try harder!" His voice rose angrily. "I bloody well can't sleep, so stop it!"

Silence again. Chatter.

"Are you trying to get me mad, little mouse?"

"I c... can't help it... it's so c... cold!", she answered, her teeth chattering while she spoke, the panic now very prominent in her voice.

He groaned, his hand pressed over his eyes. What ever had he done to deserve... oh, right. Dumb question.

If he wanted to get any sleep at all, he'd have to keep her warm. Mollycoddled city brat was not used to a bit of chill.

He did not want to do it. He really didn't. It was an absolutely daft thing to do, considering the situation.

Groaning again, he got up and took his blanket, reluctantly walking over to her, spreading the blanket over hers.

"Move over", he said through clenched teeth.

In the near darkness, he could see her go rigid.

"Wh... what...?", she started, stammering.

"Oh, don't get your knickers all twisted, princess. I just want to get some sleep tonight. And that chattering is driving me crazy. So we'll share blankets. Don't worry, I think I can refrain from touching you. Now move already, or I'm going to move you."

There was a moment of utter stillness, but then she moved to the side.

He slipped under the blankets and lay on his side, staring into the darkness with open eyes, suddenly not sleepy anymore.

The chattering had stopped, but now he could feel her shiver next to him.

Please, no... not that...

But the shivering continued. He could feel it, keeping him awake as sure as the chattering had done.

He groaned for the third time.

"Oh, for the gods' sake, girl! Roll to your side!"

She hesitated.

"Roll over!", he gritted, quite near the end of his patience.

She must have heard it in his voice, because she rolled to her side, turning her back to him.

Swearing, he sidled up to her, spooning her to his body and putting his arm around her to keep her warm.

Her whole body was tense like a spring, but at least the shivering abated.

And he lay there, her body in his arms, pressed against his, her behind in contact with very special parts of his anatomy, her silky hair tickling his face, taunting him with her scent, and fought to keep his body's reactions under control. Fought to keep his breath even, not to let his hands wander, not to press harder against her, not to sink his teeth into the skin of her neck, claiming her.

He doubted they had invented a torment like this in all nine hells. Just too damn cruel.

They lay in the dark for a long time. He could tell she was as awake as he was, but surely for completely different reasons.

But as the minutes ticked by, and he did not do anything but keep her warm, she relaxed bit by bit. And then he knew by the sound of her breathing she had finally fallen asleep.

He himself did not find sleep for a lot longer, until in the end, he slept from pure exhaustion.

xxx

When Bishop woke up, he was lying on his back, a warm weight in his arm. He opened his eyes, finding himself on the other end of the hut. For a moment, he was confused, but then the memory of the previous night came rushing back. And his pulse started to race in the same second.

Blazing hells!

She was lying in his arm, cuddled firmly against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her arm over his chest, clutching him tightly, and her leg pulled up over his, so that there did not seem an inch of her that was not somehow pressed to him.

It felt so damn good... and not in a physical way either. At least not just in a physical way.

Something stirred in his heart, an odd, fluttering feeling he did not want to dwell on. Seemingly of its own accord, his hand started to move – softly stroking her silvery tresses.

She must have sensed it, because she murmured in her sleep, sounding so content, snuggling even closer.

His arms closed around her, holding her tight, and he buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply.

There was a strange feeling in his chest. He could not put a name to it... or did not want to. But in this moment, holding her, breathing her scent, he wished they could stay like that forever. It really felt so good... and all the bitterness, all the pain he'd been dragging around all those years seemed like a distant memory somehow. He knew it was there, lurking under the surface, but right now, he could not feel it anymore. It was as if her presence kept it away.

Just holding her, and her holding on to him, did that.

Maybe...

Unconsciously, his arms tightened around her, and he caught himself pressing a soft kiss on her temple. She stirred again, and looked up, blinking lazily, still half asleep.

"Cedric...?", she murmured.

He simply could not describe the effect that single word had on him. He went still while all those bitter feelings that had seemed so distant just a moment ago went crashing down on him again, that terrible weight settling back on his shoulders, dragging him down, making it hard to breathe, making his heart ache with every beat.

"Pain" did not do the feeling justice.

And what the hells had he been thinking? How could he have been so birdbrained? He knew better, didn't he? Things never worked out for him. How could he have considered, if only for a moment...

Luckily she had stopped him before he could make a complete fool out of himself.

Now the only thing left to do was to cover his tracks again – and maybe pay her back in kind for what she made him feel.

So he sneered at her and said, derisively: "Not quite, princess. The way you've been clinging to me, I guess you have an itch you want him to scratch. Well, he's not here, and I'm not offering. Sorry to tell you, but I'm sober again. After some stiff drinks yesterday you sure looked more appealing. Just not interested in enduring the clumsy ministrations of a simpering maiden. So stop wrapping yourself around me like a damn constrictor snake and let me get up, will you?"

For a second her eyes stared into his, but then he saw tears welling up in them and she scurried away from him, averting her gaze.

He felt a surge of grim satisfaction. Misery loved company, they said. So true. Well, he could make her miserable. Child's play. Making people miserable was one of his most noticeable talents. And she deserved to be punished, deserved to suffer...

He gave a short, sardonic laugh and stood, staring down at her, huddled against the wall, her shoulders shaking.

"Look at you, pathetic, weak, blubbering. You're disgusting. Gods, I really don't think I can take another day in your company. I'm leaving."

That made her look up, horror in her tear-drenched eyes.

He snorted. "Don't piss your pants, princess, I'll be back. But I really need a break from your snivelling and your die-away airs. A man can only suffer so much of that."

He turned and went to his backpack, throwing her his water skin, and then filling some of the left-over stew into his bowl – the bowl she had cleaned yesterday, thoroughly, to appease him. Right before he... no, he would not go there.

He dropped the bowl next to her. "Have fun, princess. Dream of your Cedric. He won't come to your rescue, but dreaming can't hurt."

With that, he turned and left the hut, taking his scimitars with him. It would not do to go unarmed, even if he did not intend to go far. Could not risk to leave her unobserved for too long, someone might come along and find her. It was unlikely, but he could not take any risks.

Regardless, he had to get away at least for a time, get some fresh air, maybe clear his head again.

Only two more days or so, then he would get rid of her. And it would be healthier for him to spend that time as far away from her as possible. Keep away from temptation.

He walked a couple of yards until he reached the first of the trees, climbed one and settled into a crotch, his head resting on the bough, staring up into the green canopy of the leaves.

The weather still was dull, grey and cool, but at least it was not raining anymore.

He would just stay here for the day, away from the cursed girl and the memories she brought. Maybe he could sleep outside tonight, as well. Let her freeze, for all he cared, as long as he did not have to listen.

Time crept by slowly as he kept staring sightlessly upwards, his mind occupied with the strange medley of emotions warring in him.

Anger. Disgust. Fear. Longing. Desire. And a dozen more he could not name. Many of them directed at himself. Like the disgust.

Gods, he was pathetic, brought to his knees just because the little tart reminded him of her. Just to think he really had considered letting her live for a moment... he must have been completely off his rocker.

Well, thanks to her, he was cured from that notion. Day after tomorrow, she would die. And he could leave all this behind, get his footing again and forget she ever existed. Twenty thousand gold would be a big help with that. Twenty thousand gold and the company they could buy.

A high-pitched wailing made him bolt upright.

What...?

The shrieking continued, a long, shrill, frantic noise.

The girl was screaming at the top of her lungs, full of panic.

Without a second thought he dropped out of the tree, landing on his feet nimbly, and raced up to the hut, drawing his scimitars while running.

He burst through the door, panting, ready to cut down whatever threatened her.

His gaze found her, on the ground, scuttled backwards as far as the chain would let her, yanking at the chain with every ounce of strength she could muster, desperately trying to free herself, still screaming at the top of her lungs in terror.

A large, formidable wolf stood just a few steps away from her, sniffing at the remnants of the stew in the bowl on the floor.

Still not thinking clearly, his heart thumping from the panic he had felt when he heard her scream, Bishop let go of his weapons, dropped to his knees next to her, and gathered her in his arms.

Holding her close, protectively hugged against his chest, catching her cheek in his hand, stroking softly, he pressed his forehead against her hair.

"Shhhhh", he whispered into her ear. "It's all right, it's all right, I'm here, I got you, you're safe. You're safe."

She stopped screaming, and her arms went around his neck, clinging to him as she buried her face at his shoulder, sobbing, shaking like a leaf.

He continued to hold her, stroking her hair, whispering soothingly into her ear, until she calmed, but still she clung to him as if he was her only hold in a freak storm.

He closed his eyes, his face in her hair, and waited for his heartbeat to return to normal. Gradually, his own shock subsided, and his brain resumed working.

Horrified, he lifted his face to meet Karnwyr's eyes as it slowly sank in what he had done.

Bloody, crying hells.